Hard times will find us, for some of us sooner rather than later, but eventually hard times will find you. I believe that it should be our mission in life to turn a negative into a positive. Turning a tragedy into a triumph has been the catalyst for many causes and foundations that help millions.
As a young girl I was the middle child of a second family for both of my parents. My father walked away from his first family, then he walked away from us as well. I was just a baby and we never saw or heard from him again. This happened in the late 1950’s when Father Knows Best and the Donna Reed show ruled the airways. Things were different then. Parents stayed together.
We were the only family in our school without a father. I was told in Sunday school that we all have two fathers, an earthly father and a heavenly father. I was ecstatic, I had a father…one that I could tuck in my pocket and take around with me. I talked with him all the time. But then, I grew up. I married, and had four children. My husband and I started off madly in love; with our busy lives we hardly saw each other. With a travelling husband, four teenagers, sports, work, and all that comes with life…. I didn’t make the time to speak with my heavenly father. I was not satisfied with life.
Although I had turned away from him, he was patiently waiting for my return. I started talking to my heavenly father again, asking for change. You must be careful when praying for change… it rarely comes in the form you expect!
On May 23rd, 2004 we received the phone call that every parent fears. We were told that our son had fallen 180 feet while camping at the Gorge. To hurry, he was being airlifted, and the outcome looked grim. Twelve hours after his fall, our son was airlifted to the trauma center.
The doctors were amazed, they couldn’t understand it. Our sons insides should have been mush, his bones should have been smashed and yet, he had only fractured one of his vertebrae. No one could explain it! They also informed us that he had dissected his carotid artery causing a stroke and that he was paralyzed on one side.
The blow to his head by a rock he hit on the way down had allowed his spinal fluid to leak out of his ear, relieving the pressure on his brain as it swelled throughout the night. This had saved his life.
The real damage they tell us is to his brain. His brain had been injured in several different ways. This is our introduction to the world of Traumatic Brain Injury. Each brain injury is as unique as the patient and the circumstances.
We were told there was little chance that our son would live. If he did live he would probably be a vegetable, or low functioning for the rest of his life. We were told that he was not really out of the woods as of yet.
No one could foresee his outcome, nothing to do but to pray and wait.
Our son was a fighter. He fought to stop his descent, he fought to stay conscious to call for help in the canyon, he fought his rescuers, and he was still fighting for his life. Still fighting, he took out his breathing tube, time and time again. Finally they removed it and he was breathing on his own!
He continued to fight. Fight to learn how to swallow, eat, talk, walk and to remember…whom we were and whom he was. Finally the day came when he was allowed to go home. He continues to amaze us all. He was not accepting any limitations from any of us. He has completely recovered.
God cannot prevent bad things from happening, they will happen but he can show you the way to turn the negative into a positive. By sharing our story we hope to influence others. Our story has an amazing ending, and I wrote about it in a book entitled: The Year of the Cicadas.
Our heavenly father loves you so much that there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. He carried my son down to the floor of the canyon; He restored health and vitality to my son; He renewed my marriage; He returned our family to faith; Just be careful when asking for change, it may not come in the form you expect.
Catie
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Without you, the readers of The Year of the Cicadas, this story would be in a shoebox in the top of my closet waiting for my grandchildren to discover it after my passing. Thank you for letting me see it find the light while I am still here. You rock.
The Year of The Cicadas 
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